As Carrie embarks on her journey into the expansive world of the city, Dresier tells the reader that she goes forth like a knight setting off on a quest:
In the intuitive graces she was still crude. She could scarcely toss her head gracefully. Her hands were almost ineffectual. The feet, though small, were set flatly. And yet she was interested in her charms, quick to understand the keener pleasures of life, ambitious to gain in material things. A half-equipped little knight she was, venturing to reconnoitre the mysterious city and dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-off supremacy, which should make it prey and subject—the proper penitent, grovelling at a woman’s slipper.
The metaphor of a "half-equipped little knight" describes Carrie's new-found position in the urban jungle of Chicago. Knights in chivalric tales embody the virtues of valor, bravery, and honor as they embark on quests for noble causes. However, Carrie's depiction as only "half-equipped" underlines her vulnerability and lack of preparedness for the challenges of city life. This metaphor juxtaposes the romanticized ideals of chivalric quests, with the harsh realities of urban survival for a single young woman.
Carrie's youthful innocence is brought to the reader’s attention when the narrator elaborates on her physical attributes. Phrases such as "she could scarcely toss her head gracefully" and "her hands were almost ineffectual" not only emphasize her inexperience but also serve to highlight the daunting nature of her journeys to and within the city. By focusing on these descriptions, the author accentuates Carrie's lack of readiness for the world she's stepping into. She's a novice, both in her understanding of herself and the world. This is also brought up in the title of the first chapter, where this passage appears. Carrie’s not just a “half-developed knight,” but a “Magnet Attracting—A Waif Amid Forces.”
This metaphor resonates with the novel’s motif of Carrie’s quest for “fairyland.” She spends much of the novel dreaming of finding a better world, one where a hero might overcome insurmountable odds to claim her rightful place. Chicago becoming her "prey and subject [...] grovelling at a woman’s slipper" is the ultimate "goal" of this "knight's" quest.
The narrator employs a metaphor referring to chains and shadows as they describe the loaded early conversations between Carrie and Drouet:
How true it is that words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes.
The two related metaphors in this passage illustrate the unspoken emotions and meanings that lie beneath the surface of Carrie and Drouet’s casual, flirty conversation. Dreiser, here, describes spoken words as "vague shadows." By this, he means that what is said between people actually only represents a mere fraction of what they truly feel and intend.
He extends the reach of this description by adding another metaphor. By referring to words as "audible links," he implies that they act like the smaller, fastening sections in a bigger chain. Instead of containing meaning themselves, they string together the implied meanings of the “great inaudible feelings and purposes” they attempt to express. In support of this, the author also later emphasizes the importance of non-verbal cues in communication, particularly in the budding relationship between Drouet and Carrie. This passage suggests the almost paradoxical idea that words aren’t a complete way for people to communicate with one another.
As he stands at the edge of an upscale gathering, the narrative depicts Hurstwood as a man of luxury and ease. He does so using rich, opulent visual imagery and a metaphor referring to the other party-goers as moths:
Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, the light on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeable distinctness. He was the picture of fastidious comfort. To one not inclined to drink, and gifted with a more serious turn of mind, such a bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber must ever seem an anomaly, a strange commentary on nature and life. Here come the moths, in endless procession, to bask in the light of the flame. Such conversation as one may hear would not warrant a commendation of the scene upon intellectual grounds.
The visual imagery of this passage paints Hurstwood as a refined, sophisticated figure. The reader is told that he’s a “serious” person, who is more inclined to observe than to drink and party. The light reflecting off his polished jewelry underscores his wealth, and his entire appearance gives an impression of careful curation and “fastidious comfort.” He’s one of the only still points in the surrounding "bubbling, chattering, glittering chamber,” which contributes to the impression that he doesn’t see himself as entirely a part of it.
The metaphor comparing the other people in the room individuals to "moths" drawn to a flame also gestures to his separation from the crowd. He sees the people around him as “moths” who are drawn in by the light and warmth of the party to “bask.” This gives the reader insight into Hurstwood’s own slightly pompous view of gatherings like this, where he believes that anyone looking for “intellectual” company would be poorly served.
The narrator takes a moment to contemplate humanity's relationship to the vast, uncontrollable forces of life and destiny. They use a metaphor to compare humans to a powerless, fleeting "wisp":
[U]ntutored man is but a wisp in the wind. [...] his free-will not sufficiently developed to replace his instincts and afford him perfect guidance. [...] He is becoming too wise to hearken always to instincts and desires; he is still too weak to always prevail against them.[...] He is even as a wisp in the wind, moved by every breath of passion, acting now by his will and now by his instincts, erring with one, only to retrieve by the other, falling by one, only to rise by the other—a creature of incalculable variability.
Describing humanity as a "wisp in the wind" underscores the idea that human beings have short, fleeting lives that are controlled by greater forces. People are creatures of “incalculable variability,” and their natures are driven by “every breath of passion.” A wisp is something that is small and fragile and is easily influenced by the slightest gust of air.
In this metaphor, the "wind" represents the uncontrollable external events and movements of destiny that affect every outcome for Dreiser’s characters. This metaphor makes humans seem quite fragile, suggesting that they are blown about by their choices, prejudices, and desires. By repeatedly emphasizing humanity's position as a "wisp," Dreiser draws attention to the inherent vulnerability and powerlessness that people like Carrie lived with. Their concerns as city-dwellers, actors, friends, and lovers are examined on both an enormous and minute scale in this passage.
Hurstwood, burdened by personal challenges, lets alcohol blur his judgment, leading him towards precarious decisions. As he moves through this haze, Dreiser depicts the effects of alcohol on him through metaphor and tactile imagery:
The manager was no fool to be led blindly away by such an errant proposition as this, but his situation was peculiar. Wine was in his veins. It had crept up into his head and given him a warm view of the situation. It also coloured the possibilities of ten thousand for him. He could see great opportunities with that. He could get Carrie.
The metaphor of wine "in his veins" goes beyond mere intoxication. The wine is running through Hurstwood's body, almost as if it is replacing his other vital fluids. This metaphor emphasizes the profound impact drinking has on his psyche, coloring his judgment and risk assessment. By likening the wine's influence to blood in the bloodstream, the narrative underscores its inescapable and dominant role in shaping his decisions.
The tactile imagery of the wine’s “warmth” communicates the fact that it relaxes Hurstwood and gives him a more optimistic view of his prospects. The wine, having “crept up into his head” makes him feel brave and act rashly. The extent of its reach further amplifies its power over him, suggesting that it provides Hurstwood with a sense of surety that his environment doesn't actually have. It falsely boosts his confidence, making him feel like the $10,000 he plans to steal is an opportunity well within his reach.
When Hurstwood expresses his feelings for Carrie and asks her to marry him, she finds herself overwhelmed, grappling with her emotions and choices. Dreiser uses a metaphor invoking a flood to describe her reactions:
This man, to whose bosom she was being pressed, was strong; he was passionate, he loved her, and she was alone. If she did not turn to him—accept of his love—where else might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in the flood of his strong feeling.
Dreiser metaphorically describes Hurstwood's feelings as a flood, thus illustrating the overwhelming and consuming nature of his passion for her. Carrie doesn’t feel completely committed to her relationship with him, and she’s not sure if being with him is the right thing to do. In this passage, Hurstwood is pressing Carrie into his "bosom," making her feel both physically and emotionally overwhelmed. Like an unstoppable tide, his emotions threaten to drown Carrie's reservations, leaving her feeling trapped and unsure.
Floods are destructive, powerful forces, and by comparing Hurstwood's feelings to such a phenomenon, Dreiser amplifies the social and financial pressure Carrie is under. In this passage, she is nearly powerless, as she feels intense pressure from all sides. The metaphor accentuates her feeling of isolation and vulnerability.
Lola Osborne, a chorus girl in the theater world, quickly befriends Carrie and establishes a reliance on her. The narrator employs a metaphor that presents Lola as a kitten, thus illustrating the nature of this loving but dependent relationship;
Little Osborne could never of herself amount to anything. She seemed to realise it in a sort of pussy-like way and instinctively concluded to cling with her soft little claws to Carrie.
The metaphor of a cat's "soft little claws" refers to Lola's approach to friendship with Carrie. Typically, an animal’s claws might suggest danger and aggression, but the adjective "soft" makes the description a bit more nuanced. Like a cat that uses its claws to hold onto things, Lola’s “claws” are here being used to restrain Carrie, not to wound her. By likening her to a cat, Dreiser highlights Lola's cunning and survival instincts. The “softness” of her claws also implies her youth and inexperience: Lola is so young and naïve that she’s like a kitten whose claws haven’t hardened yet and are no real threat.
Cats are known for their independence and intelligence, coupled with carefully-calculated displays of affection. Like a cat, Lola is intent on her own self-preservation and is willing to use Carrie’s presence and relative success for her own ends. Lola's calculated attachment to Carrie suggests that she's well aware of her own limitations in the theater world as someone who would “never amount to anything.” This prompts her to align herself with Carrie, who shows promise.
